


Sweet Dreams

by TK_DuVeraun



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friendship & Adventure, Gen, M/M, Modern Thedas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: For @elalavella. Modern Thedas. Ela’s been having vivid nightmares that are starting to feel far too real when the companions she has in the nightmares appear in her real life. She thought it was supposed to be the other way around!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elalavella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elalavella/gifts).



> The violence is graphic for the rating, but not gratuitious. Additional warnings for spiders, descriptions of stress and pain responses and vomitting.

Spiders. Giant, _fucking_ spiders with hairy carapaces and spindly legs and they came up to Ela’s hip and they were _coming_ up to her hip, running with an eight-legged skitter that she didn’t think she could outrun. Not that that stopped her. Not that she spared the mind to _think_ about clusters of eyes and venomous fangs. There was nothing in her head but green light and running and _maybe_ some ghastly figure in Chantry robes that was guiding her to- to- Ela didn’t know, but anything was better than spiders.

She sprinted into the glowing tear in the air, but instead of going through, she felt an oppressive weight on her chest and she couldn’t move and didn’t want to look and see more-

\---

“Spiders!” Elashorei shouted herself awake. Heart still pounding a painful beat in her chest, she shoved the bleary-eyed Sera off of her chest. She took several deep breaths, savouring the feel of her diaphragm expanding to the fullest. She rubbed the sand out of her eyes then pushed her back off of the soft carpeting.

“Why are you shouting about spiders at hours that don’t exist?” Sera mumbled between exaggerated groans. Sera was dramatically shielding her eyes from the late-morning sun and groping blindly for either the bottle of water or half-empty glass of wine on the coffee table. It was always hard to tell.

Ela felt sick to her stomach, but was sure it was from the nightmare and not the hangover throbbing in her skull. She looked around, but their flat was the same as ever, even if the coffee table was slightly more strewn with wine bottles than usual. Honestly, her back hurt more from sleeping on the living room floor than her head did from the hangover. She shivered and rubbed her arms, but not to relieve the stiffness, to wipe away the feeling of _spiders._ Eventually, she remembered that Sera asked her a question, even if Sera no longer did. “I had another one of those nightmares.”

“If you weren’t such a swot,” Sera said, pulling the wine glass to her covered face, “you wouldn’t have nightmares about _history_.”

“Well this time it was history with _spiders_ ,” Ela hissed. Gingerly, she climbed unsteadily to her feet, using the couch to half-pull herself up. She rubbed the blurriness from her eyes and scanned around the room for her mobile. The notification light blinked innocently from between slightly-stained couch cushions and a feeling of dread settled over her. “Sera.”

“Wat,” Sera replied. She was half under the coffee table at that point, enjoying the hair of the dog.

“We’re supposed to meet Bull’s new friend in the city today.” Ela snatched up her mobile and cringed at the display. _An hour to get dressed and to the center of Val-R. Ugh, why did we drink so much?_

Sera knocked her head on the underside of the coffee table with a chorus of swears. “We don’t love him enough for this.”

Feeling the last vestiges of the nightmare fade away in the wake of this _new_ horror, Ela shook her head. “Yes we do. He hasn’t introduced us to anyone since he came out about formally leaving the Qun.”

Sera groaned some mixture of complaint an ascent, so Ela set about getting ready to go out. She showered, dressed and did her makeup in a transformation worthy of a daytime TV montage and _looked_ as fresh as a daisy, even if bright lights and loud noises still hurt.

The two elves made it to small, independent café in downtown Val Royeaux where they were supposed to meet The Iron Bull.

Under the cover of her floppy hat, Ela sipped her fancy coffee and sent a grouchy text to her late friend. There may have been several rude emoji.

“I told ya he was gonna be late. We took the shifty train for no reason. None!” Sera complained. Sera had a distressingly large cup filled with equal parts espresso, cream and sugar.

“The _train_ isn’t shifty,” Ela said. She scanned the café’s other, decidedly not The Iron Bull patrons. Her gaze slipped over a group of laughing footballers, still in their practice kits, and quickly settled on _him._ The golden-haired, golden-eyed literal man from her dreams. (Technically, they had all been nightmares, but nightmares were a kind of dream and _he_ was never one of the scary parts.)

“Elalala,” Sera said, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re making gooey eyes. We’re not _here_ for you to make gooey eyes. We’re here for _Bull_ to make gooey eyes.”

Ela blinked and glanced at Sera before turning back to the man named Cullen in her dreams. “Bull’s not here, yet. I can make eyes if I want. Besides, _he’s_ the one from the dreams!”

“Enough with the blah blah dream talk. Just give him your number and ask if he’s dtf.”

“Sera!” Ela said, sounding far more scandalized than she felt.

“You’re never gonna get the D if you don’t use your balls!” Sera said at such a loud volume, it was a miracle no one turned to stare.

Ea removed her floppy hat and set it on the table over her coffee. “I’ll be right back. Don’t scare off Bull’s new friend if he shows up before I do.”

When Ela returned from the loo, Sera’s expression was _far_ too innocent, but The Iron Bull and his friend were sitting at the table, so Ela limited her interrogation to a pointed look between Sera and her coffee. When the other elf just laughed, Ela took a careful sip. (It was fine.)

“Ela! Great! Finally!” The Iron Bull said, as if he wasn’t the late one. “Dorian, this is Elashoriel, Ela, this is Dorian. Great, we’re all friends. Now let’s get some real food.”

Ela split her mind three ways. The first was deciding whether or not to insist that the café’s strawberry cakes were real enough for her. The second was examining Dorian. (Dark-haired, olive-skinned human with an armband marking him as a registered mage. He looked nice enough, though something about him tugged at her memory.) And the last part was surreptitiously looking for ‘Cullen’ and trying to decide if she _would_ give him her number before she left. (That one was easy - the golden-haired man was gone. Drat.)

Without complaint, since Ela could get the strawberry cake on the way home, she donned her hat and followed The Iron Bull out of the café. As they walked down the street, Ela interrupted Sera’s mocking of Dorian’s mustache. “So what is it you _do,_ Dorian?” she asked with a pointed nod at her armband.

Dorian turned the full force of his self-impressed smile on Ela. “Why my dear, I’m a _detective._ I summon the spirits of the recently deceased to solve their murders. Terribly gruesome.”

Ela’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought it was impossible to summon spirits.”

“Spirit-spirits, yes, impossible ever since the Soldification, but _people_ -spirits, their souls or what have you, that’s entirely possible with a tricky ritual or four. I’m one of only five registered necromancers in Southern Thedas. And the best, of course.” Dorian’s chest puffed out and he all-but preened under his own self-praise. It was just over-the-top enough to be endearing rather than cringe-worthy.

The Iron Bull seemed to think so, what with his adoring stare. _Or a-Dorian stare. I’ll have to remember to tell Sera that one later,_ Ela thought. Aloud she said, “Oh yes, we’re all _ever_ -so impressed. I just had to make sure you weren’t looking for a sugar daddy.”

The Iron Bull laughed uproariously at Dorian’s offended expression and continued leading them on to lunch. Something about Dorian continued to niggle at the back of Ela’s mind, but she pushed it aside to focus on making a good impression on her friend’s new _boyfriend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended to posted this as a single chapter, like with Taun Fawn and Orobird, but the section breaks were thematically good chapter dividers, so now readers on Ao3 won't have to wait for full completion.
> 
> If you think Ela's a great character, check out @Elalavella's [tumblr here](https://elalavella.tumblr.com/) to see art, other stories and a wealth of information from her amazing creator.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Ela my dear, Bull has told me that you’re having a bit of a problem with nightmares, lately,” Dorian said. The group was back at the man’s flat and it wasn’t nearly as posh as his demeanor. Apparently, his salary from the police department didn’t cover much past his fancy clothes and mustache wax, given the sparse furnishings and empty fridge.

“Bull!” Ela said. She absolutely did not stomp her foot. 

“It’s a magic problem; it’s gonna need a magical solution,” The Iron Bull said, mildly.

Sera blew a loud raspberry with enough spit flying out of her mouth that Dorian visibly flinched. Sera rolled her eyes and said, “Everything’s a mage problem nowadays. S’long as they keep the pipes warm, they’re doing all the magic  _ I _ need.”

“Before the Solidification-” Dorian began.

“That’s fuckin’ right.  _ Before _ the Soldyficyton, magic was the source a’ everyone’s problems. Now, we might as well be livin’ under the Stone for the magic we gotta deal with.”

Dorian looked equal parts offended and charmed by Sera’s interruption and continued on as if she hadn’t said anything. “Nightmares like Bull described were a clear harbinger of demon possession. Now, they’re about as bad as it gets, except for the little part where you’re not a mage. Unless you are. Officially speaking, I wouldn’t know, of course, but it’s relevant.”

Ela crossed her arms over her chest and her mouth curled into a sour pout. “No, I’m not a mage.”

“She doesn’t need a mage, she needs a great golden cock,” Sera said.

Dorian repeated each word slowly. “Great golden cock.”

“Ya,” Sera said, seemingly unable to keep her mouth shut, “she’s been dreaming about Cullywully, her lil’ golden boy. And then she saw ‘im in the café and couldn’t be assed to get his number.”

Ela sat silently and tried to drown her embarrassment in Dorian’s nice white wine.

“While I agree that a good dick can solve most problems,” Dorian said with a leer at The Iron Bull, “demons paying you a little too much attention is a problem that makes  _ worse _ . Lust and all that. Anyway, you  _ do _ have the scent of the Fade about you. It’s just not polite to comment on someone’s mage-status.”

When her cheeks returned to their normal color, Ela cleared her throat and said, “I don’t know why this would start  _ now _ of all… Hey, you’ve been in them, too!”

Dorian blinked. “Have I, now? And you only just now noticed? I’m a little insulted that I’m so forgettable.”

“There’s usually a lot of blood and red lyrium. Not exactly easy to identify most people, what with the carnage,” Ela replied. 

“Red lyrium? That’s some boogey man to latch onto,” Dorian said, rubbing his chin. “You’d think your mind would settle on the archdemon or some of that other Blight nonsense. Everyone loves a good Warden story, afterall.”

Ela bit her tongue to hold back her scathing comment about the reality of red lyrium, but that’s a lesson she’d learned thoroughly. Discussing the reality of red lyrium and the Blights and darkspawn and Wardens always ended up in bickering about sources (and usually jabs at her dyslexia, as if that made her less credible). She turned her tone pointedly polite. “Thank you for your concern, Dorian.” (Bull winced at the clear insincerity in her words.) “But it’s just some silly nightmares. I’m fine.”

“Come on, Boss, he didn’t mean it that way,” Bull said. “And you haven’t slept well in months. Don’t think I missed how hungover you were at lunch.”

Ela dropped her gaze to the glass in her hand.

“Well, I can help with that,” Dorian said. He set down his wine glass and went into his bedroom for a moment before he came back holding a small, jade amulet. He held out to Ela, but The Iron Bull snatched it out of his hand and examined it for anything malicious before giving to Ela. Dorian cleared his throat loudly, but otherwise didn’t respond to the exchange. “There was some family drama when I first left Tevinter; that did away with sleepless nights.”

Ela eyed his earnest expression for a moment before looking at the amulet herself, though without any magical talent it may as well have just been a polished stone from the garden. She was still looking at it when she absentmindedly said, “Your father was less than understanding about your enjoyment of the male form?”

“...Yes, actually.” Dorian retook his seat and looked far more serious than he had before. “I take it you knew that from these nightmares.”

Ela bit her bottom lip and then nodded. “You were reasonably upset about it.”

Dorian turned to Sera. “And this Cullywully person, you say she recognized him from her nightmares? Did she ever describe him before today?”

Sera nodded and kicked her feet up on his coffee table. “Yup. Kinda creepy, how accurate she was, too.” Sera gestured to her mouth. “Got his scar n’ everything.”

“And is his name, uh, Cullywully?”

Ela snorted. “Cullen. And I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him.”

“Hmm, well, I suppose I will have to take one for the team and spend my afternoons in that café until he comes back and I can confirm,” Dorian said, making a show of looking put-upon. “Of course, if the amulet works, then it doesn’t matter, but if he’s as attractive as you’re making him sound, I’m sure I’ll survive the effort.”

The Iron Bull reached over and tweaked Dorian’s mustache, which started a clearly affected play-fight that sent Ela into fits of giggles. She put the amulet in her pocket and the issue of her nightmares was forgotten in favor of teasing the new couple.

\---

On the bus ride home (not the ‘shifty’ train), Sera slept sprawled across her seat, the aisle and Ela’s lap, snoring quietly. Ela stroked her friend’s hair with one hand and checked her text messages with the other. 

From The Iron Bull, she had a picture of a cat in a t-shirt and photoshopped sunglasses and alternating smiling and frowning emoji finally ending with ‘u stil luv me, rite?’ He’d also sent a second message just a few minutes after they left saying, ‘dat ass tho’ with a winky face.

Ela chuckled and then sifted through the various reminders and spam messages from unknown numbers. One catches her eye from the preview menu because it uses proper capitals and punctuation.

“Hello, sorry if this is weird. I think your friend reverse pickpocketed me. I found a napkin with this number and a doodle of your face (sorry if that’s rude, but your vallaslin are striking) and a, uh, rather colorful invitation to text you. So I’m texting you. Definitely me. Not my much hotter friend Alistair whom you should totally date instead.’ It ended with a second phone number, ostensibly Alistair’s, but either way, it made Ela laugh quietly.

Sera simply snored louder.

Ela snapped a quick photo of herself with her big, floppy hat and attached it to her reply. ‘Hello! It’s me you’ve got. You didn’t mention any dicks on the note, so I’m not sure my friend gave it to you. Send a pic back to confirm.’

Ela smiled for the rest of the ride back.


	3. Chapter 3

It took a full thirty hours for the mystery number to text back. Not that Ela was counting. The messaging app very clearly showed that her last message was thirty hours ago. She  _ wasn’t _ obsessing. 

She saw the picture on the bus ride home from her piano lesson. The student’s appreciative mother had plied her with a blueberry tart, as if Ela wasn’t charging actual money, but sometimes tarts were better than money, so she certainly didn’t complain about getting  _ both. _ And the blueberries had been fresh from the family’s garden, which was just the metaphorical cherry on top of the fruit tart. But the picture was slightly more important than the tart. Slightly.

The mystery number was  _ definitely _ Cullen. Or whatever his real name was. Ela created the contact with the name ‘Golden Lion’ because sometimes Sera had good ideas. Well, Sera often had good ideas, it was only sometimes Ela could act on them openly. Cullen looked bashful in the picture, eyes turned down, slight blush under his tan. It was clearly taken by someone else.

After saving the picture, Ela read the accompanying message. ‘Yes, there was THAT on the note, too. I just didn’t want to mention it. It was a little vulgar, but she clearly cares about you, so I didn’t want to complain. Your hat was very nice.’

She frowned at the message. It didn’t really seem like how someone would normally reply to getting a woman’s phone number. She scrolled back through her memories of the Cullen in her nightmares and it suddenly made more sense.  _ He’s probably too shy to say he thinks I’m pretty, so he compliments the hat. How cute! _

Ela returned her phone to her purse, determined to craft the perfect message that was a mixture of teasing out his shyness and making her own interest clear. While not being creepy or weird.  _ Definitely don’t mention the dreams. Or Mia. _

She pulled herself out of that mental rabbit hole by staring at her hands. It was time for a spa day and Sera was out of town, so Ela wouldn’t have to endure any teasing about it. She was considering the merits of scarlet polish when something about her palm distracted her. Ela uncurled both hands examined her palms and the inside of her fingers. She didn’t usually spend a  _ lot _ of time examining them, but they were  _ her _ hands and surely she would notice if something was different, right?

And there  _ was, _ but she couldn’t put her finger on  _ what, _ exactly. Experimentally, she opened and closed her hands, then pulled out her mobile and looked at her hand around it. With a considering sound, she flicked her mobile on and scrolled through her photo gallery. Surely she’d accidentally snapped a pic of her palms at some point.

There, back in Harvestmere, she’d taken one. With her tongue out in concentration and feeling a little silly, Ela compared her right palm to the photo.  _ Oh, I have a lot more calluses now. But why? I haven’t been doing anything new. I hope it doesn’t mess up my playing. _

\---

Ela woke up at the lovely hour of half-past ten. The sun was shining and birds were chirping, not too loudly, just outside her window. She sat up in her bed and yawned widely. She started her coffee machine and then picked through her closet, trying to decide what she would wear to the salon. Just as she reached for the hangar holding her favorite sundress, she was brought to her knees by excruciating pain in her left arm.

It disappeared as soon as it had come, leaving her gasping on the floor of her bedroom. Heart racing, she glanced around her bedroom for the source of the pain with slightly wild eyes. She pushed herself up off of the soft carpet with both hands, only to collapse again when the pain struck her like a bolt to lightning to the arm. 

With a moan, she rolled onto her left side and curled around her arm. It throbbed with pain and felt both like it was on fire and exploding. When the pain passed again, Ela lifted herself on shaking hands and knees. She took a few measured breaths and then determinedly crawled back to her nightstand. With a desperate snap of her arm, Ela snatched her mobile off her nightstand and scrambled to text The Iron Bull. She preemptively laid on her left side and texted one-handed, a measure proved completely necessary as the pain struck again.

‘i need u @ my flat’

The Iron Bull must have felt the desperation behind her lack of proper grammar and punctuation because his response was only, ‘omw did u call 112?”

‘no 112’

Weak and shaking, Ela wiped the tears off of her face and curled herself more tightly around her left arm, though it did nothing for the pain. She was crying and wanted to sob, but she didn’t have the energy.  _ Why is this happening? What did I do? _

She pressed her forehead into her knees and waited for an eternity before The Iron Bull barged into her bedroom and scooped her up without a word. Ela let out a quiet whine as her friend gently set her down on her couch. She pressed her face into the couch cushions and shivered from pain and exhaustion. After a second eternity, he laid a warm blanket over her and she heard the sound of the kettle starting up in the kitchen. 

The Iron Bull pulled her hair back into a scrunchie and gently stroked her arm. “Alright Boss, what’s the matter? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital? You’re out in a bad way.”

“No authorities!” Ela shouted. She sobbed and squeezed her eyes shut. Under the pain in her arm, her mind flashed back to sterile, white interview rooms and a parade of official facilities and falsely kind smiles from people who didn’t know her and didn’t  _ care. _

Her friend tested the temperature of her forehead and then stroked her head. “You got it. I’m gonna call Dalish. Everything’ll be alright. I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ela’s vision swam when The Iron Bull gently turned her face away from the couch cushions. The pain in her arm spiked and a groan forced its way out of her chest. Her empty stomach heaved from the agony and the rest of her body ached with exhaustion from the pounding of her heart.

The Iron Bull’s voice barely made it through the haze in her mind. “Look at me, Boss. Dalish is on her way, but she wants me to do a few tests before she gets here. And don’t think I won’t call a bus if it’s necessary.”

Ela thought she nodded that she understood, but she wasn’t sure about either the nodding or the understanding. She certainly didn’t know how a bus was supposed to help anything. She closed her eyes again and let her friend move her limbs around like she was some kind of malfunctioning puppet he was trying to fix.

“You’re not gonna like this, but I have to check you over for blood magic. The mark is easily identifiable, but it might be on one of your intimate areas. Is it okay if I check?” The Iron Bull asked slowly. He made sure to pronounce each word clearly and the effort was a success, since Ela was pretty sure she knew what he was talking about.

Delirious from pain, Ela nodded again. She knew she got it that time because it made her dizzier.

“I’m going to need verbal confirmation, El. You still with me?”

Ela took a few breaths to brace herself to speak, but instead of helping, they just tipped the scales on her nausea. She jerked towards the trash bin to vomit and would have fallen face-first into the plastic liner if the  kossith hadn’t caught her and carefully held her over it. Once she stopped retching, The Iron Bull held her up in a sitting position and poured a little water down her throat.

After what felt like ten gallons, he laid her back down on the couch. “Boss, I still need to look you over for blood magic. Dalish can do it herself, but I know you’re not too close with her.”

“Check. It’s fine,” Ela said. She hoped he could understand her past the slurring because she didn’t want to risk another episode of throwing up. She trusted The Iron Bull to take care of her. He’d spent his entire life training to be Ben-Hassrath under the Qun; he’d know what to look for.

Ela felt him carefully pull her pajamas away from her skin one small section at a time. If she could have talked without feeling sick, she would have told him she didn’t _care._ All she cared about was the supernova that existed where her arm should be and not wanting to throw up. Half the building could walk by and see her starkers and she wouldn’t have cared.

She thought she must have blacked out or maybe she’d just been too overwhelmed by pain because the next thing Ela noticed was Dalish murmuring reassurances in elvhen as hands much smaller than The Iron Bull’s prodded at and moved her arm. _Actually, I can feel my arm at all. That’s good, right?_

From that point on, Ela’s senses gradually started returning. The pain was present, but not the overwhelming tide it had been. She groaned and groped for the coffee table with her right hand.

The Iron Bull pressed a pain au chocolat into her hand that Ela nibbled on while trying to get her eyes to focus. Eventually, she could make out the vallaslin on Dalish’s somber face. Ela made a questioning sound.

Dalish looked a little less dour at the evidence that Ela was, in fact, still in there and nodded. “There’s no physical damage on your arm and no sign of cumulative degeneration - that is to say, it shouldn’t get worse over time. I _thought_ the magic was attacking your brain, simply making you _think_ your arm was hurting, but it’s stimulating the nerves in your arm directly. I’ve got you under topical anesthesia right now and it seems to be working.”

Though the words had to swirl through Ela’s brain a few times, they eventually made sense, so she nodded her understanding. (She didn’t stop eating, though.)

“This isn’t completely unheard of. Sometimes demons get narky about the Veil and lash out. The issue is the severity of your pain coupled with the fact that you’re not a mage.” Dalish tokenly gave a fake cough and said, “Not that I am either, of course.”

“Of course,” Ela said around the bread, though it mostly came across as a mumble.

“You _should_ have gone to hospital. And it’s not safe for me to just leave your arm numb like this. This kind of pain is bad for your heart, to say the least. Bull is going to stay with you and if it’s still like this in twenty hours or so, he’s taking you in, whether you consent or not.”

Ela nodded. Her aversion to emergency services was great, but she did want to live. She hadn’t expected it to get that bad when she first told The Iron Bull not to call them.

Dalish continued, “If this _is_ a demon venting its frustrations, it’s not going to stop on its own. I strongly suggest you ask Bull’s new project to have a little mental jaunt into the Fade to tell it off.”

“Dorian’s not a _project_ ,” the kossith said.

“If you’re not going to let us call him your boyfriend, he’s your project,” Dalish said as she tapped him on the nose like she might an unruly cat.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for your help, Dalish.”

“Thank you,” Ela mumbled around her bread.

“I’ll ask some of my contacts to see if this is happening to anyone else, but hopefully not and hopefully this is the end of it,” Dalish said. “Feel better, Ela. I’ve got to run. You’re in good hands.”

Ela nodded her agreement and watched the other elf leave her flat.

The Iron Bull took a seat on the floor in front of the couch where Ela was still laying. He looked over his shoulder at her. “You gave me quite a scare, Boss.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re sensate again. Do you want me to call Sera?”

Ela shook her head. Sera would react… Extremely. Ela wasn’t sure exactly _how,_ but she needed the calm to try and keep her wits in her heads.

“Didn’t think so.” He pressed a glass of water into her hand. “Drink this and then try to get some sleep.”

Ela dutifully drank the water and wiped the chocolate off her hands onto the napkin he handed her next. “Thank you,” Ela said, though the words came out as a quiet rasp.

“Anytime, Boss.”

Ela curled up on the couch, his back adding to the warmth from the blanket. She fell asleep with her forehead pressed into one of his arms and her knees digging into the other.


	5. Chapter 5

Ela watched Dorian carefully manipulate each of the fingers on her left hand and make notes about whatever he sensed with his magic as he did it. She was a little curious about what he was learning, but her mouth and right hand were busy with eating a piece of fluffy, light strawberry cake that had appeared during her nap.

Dorian seemed to like to hear himself talk, so he didn’t need her questions, anyway.

“Fascinating. And no nightmares with the amulet?” Dorian asked.

Ela shook her head and kept eating.

“Well, Bull, your definitely-not-a-mage friend seems to have the right of it. Her arm just  _ reeks  _ of the Fade.”

Ela wrinkled her nose. She didn’t stink.

“Don’t make that face, you know what I mean,” Dorian chided. “Whatever demon has taken a liking, or disliking, to you must be very powerful to have this much influence on this side of the Veil. I think you made the right decision not going straight to hospital. This is the kind of thing doctorate students write their theses on.”

“Don’t encourage her. This is serious,” The Iron Bull said. His voice rumbled intimidatingly in his chest and the protectiveness warmed Ela’s heart. 

“Yes, fine, get professional treatment next time,” Dorian said. He was wearing a suit, presumably what he wore to work, what with the official badge on his mage armband. “I’m putting a magical shield around your arm, since it seems focused on it. Has anything else strange been happening around you? Except for the nightmares, of course.”

Ela took her time swallowing and then set down her fork. She showed Dorian the palm of her right hand. “I have a lot of weird calluses suddenly. I noticed it the other day.”

“She plays piano and those don’t look like pianist’s hands anymore,” The Iron Bull added.

“Hmm, this is quite a puzzle. If you don’t mind, I’ll contact my mentor and see if he has any ideas. No personal information, of course. I wouldn’t subject you to graduate students,” Dorian says. Though his tone was joking, Ela saw the seriousness in his eyes and the set of his mouth.

She nodded. “I’d really like for all of this to stop.” She bit her lip and turned her eyes back to her slice of cake. She ate another bite and without looking up, said, “Bull can tell you about my family later.”

“...Are you sure about, Boss?”

“I’m sure it’s connected. I just… I just don’t want to talk about it.”

The Iron Bull moved up onto the couch and gave Ela a big hug and even surreptitiously wiped the tears from her face before he pulled away. “You focus on feeling better. I’ll figure this out.”

\---

Ela’s life returned to normal for a few days. She went to work, pulled rubber snakes out of her boots, taught children to play piano, gave Dorian cream for the itching powder in his silk shirt and let The Iron Bull spoil her with cakes and pastries he  _ just happened _ to have been given at work. There were a few shy texts from her Golden Lion, but since Cullen featured in so many of her nightmares, Ela was hesitant to get too close to him, considering.

While the amulet kept her locked out of the Fade in her sleep, it left her mind free to dig through the old ones. Thankfully, it mostly dwelled on the nice parts of the visions. She and Sera ran around a castle in the mountain setting pranks for the other inhabitants.

She played chess with Dorian in the gardens and practiced  _ combat _ with The Iron Bull and some of his friends whose names Ela could never keep straight. (Except for Krem. He was just as charming and handsome in real life as he was in the nightmares and if he hadn’t been in a relationship with Ela met him, she might have developed a crush.) In the dreams she wielded a giant sword that took both hands to lift and swing around and fit uncomfortably well with the calluses on her hands.

If she wasn’t still rattled from the excruciating pain in her arm, she would have loved to tell Probably-Cullen all about the nightmares and the adventures they had together. She was sure he’d find it hilarious that his friend Alistair (who wrote probably half of the text messages to her) was a  _ king _ of all things.

But she  _ was _ rattled, so she mostly just sent fashion pics to draw out the blush she knew he was making at his own screen. It would still be a fun thing to talk about once Dorian had rapped the demon bothering her on the knuckles and made it leave her alone for once in her life.

Ela bit her tongue and tried to shove the thought away, but denials could only take her so far. The horrible, inexplicable magical explosion at her home village was bad enough, but… Ela squeezed her eyes tightly shut. In the nightmare, she’d heard her fantasy-self tell Cullen that she didn’t know how to swim and neither had her sister and then that Lhuneiah had… had…

With a shuddering breath, Ela reached up and wiped the tears out of her eyes. Lhuneiah had been a great swimmer and  _ loved _ summer and pools and her drowning had been so surprising, so out of nowhere. And yes, sometimes good swimmers drowned, but it was her baby sister.

For years, people had been telling her that sometimes bad things just happened and there wasn’t always a reason, but now the thought that haunted her was that there  _ was _ a reason and that reason was done hurting people around her. She hiccupped a sob and groped around for her tatty, old stuffed nug. Ela hugged it to her chest with both arms and cried.

She didn’t think to replace the jade amulet around her neck before crying herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN


	6. Chapter 6

There was no sky, no ground, no horizon. Ela stood simply on a small platform of black rock in an endless expanse of green  _ nothing. _ She took a step forward and even though she was expecting it, she crashed bodily onto a different chunk of rock as some kind of gravity asserted itself.

She pushed herself to her feet with both hands and dusted herself off. She shouts, “I really don’t have time for these shenanigans. Can you call back later?”

“Ela, dear, maybe now’s not the best time to antagonize the demon,” Dorian said from behind her. 

“Look, I know this is just a nightmare, but I was having a good cry and-”

“Shitballs, fuck, shit, crap. Fade, shit, arse, demons, crap!” Sera shouted.

“Boss, we’re all here, too. I don’t think this is the same as your other nightmares,” The Iron Bull said.

Ela lowered her hand mid-angry gesture and slowly turned to look at her friends. Unlike when she’d first seen this scene in her nightmares, they were dressed in normal clothes. Jeans, t-shirts, a polo in Dorian’s case, a neon-coloured poncho in Sera’s. The blood drained out of Ela’s face and she felt faint. There was no Hawke and no Stroud and no Rift in the Fade for them to leave through. 

“That’s right. There’s no one else here except  _ me _ ,” the Nightmare said. Its voice boomed and echoed in from every direction with a force that rattled everyone’s bones.

Ela swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and turned back towards the path where she normally saw the spirit disguising itself as Divine Justinia, but the Nightmare was right. There was no one there to help them.

“Again, except me,” the Nightmare said, continuing to read her thoughts. “I’ve been kind enough to provide you with the weapons you brought the first time.”

On top of a cracked, stone plinth were terribly familiar. The greatsword had two twisting dragons on the crossguard. Ela raised her hand towards it, but then lowered it in an aborted gesture. She looked over her shoulder at Dorian. She smirked despite the fear locking up her lungs. “Rule number one: don’t accept anything they offer you.”

Dorian gives her a wane smile in return. “Something like that. Here, let me…” Dorian closed his eyes seemed to be focusing. He made a dramatic flourish before opening his eyes, but thankfully for his pride, a collection of weapons mirroring the creation by the Nightmare had appeared. “Well look at that. And I’m not even somniari. It looks like everyone gets to break the rules.” 

He beamed at everyone, but only Ela could muster even the faintest hint of a smile. Sera was cursing in at least three languages, one of which may have been made up, and hiding behind The Iron Bull. Bull himself was muttering about demons and why didn’t Dorian magic him a  _ gun _ because that would have been a lot more useful than the greataxe supplied.

Dorian’s mustache wilted a little, but he nevertheless picked up the ornate mage staff and twirled it expertly. Before blinking down at the staff. “I’m quite sure I never properly learned how to do that.”

“Your spirit remembers,” a low voice says out of nowhere. Then, just as the weapons had materialized, a young man with a hat floppy enough to rival any of Ela’s appeared. His clothing matched the old timey style she always saw in her nightmares, but she didn’t recognize him.

“It fits; a piece of the puzzle. I should recognize him, but I don’t. Fighting, spinning, running, magic, crashing,” the young man said. “I’m Cole. I help. You made me more like a person, but you don’t remember.”

“Erm, hello Cole,” Ela said in return. She let The Iron Bull move in front of her, but didn’t let him block her view of Cole completely. “Why did I, uh, remember everyone except you?”

“You can’t remember until your spirit touches theirs. That’s why you didn’t know Cullen until he moved to Val Royeaux.” Cole tilted his head back to look at her from under his hat. Instead of normal eyes, the sockets were filled with a blue fire that should be disturbing, but  _ somehow _ against all logic and reason felt comforting. “You can remember me now.”

And Ela did. A voice pounding at the gate. ‘I can’t help unless you let me in.’ The memories assault her in a rush and she holds onto The Iron Bull’s arm to keep from falling over.

“I’m something between. The Nightmare can’t feel me because it doesn’t know what I am,” Cole said. He picked up the greatsword Dorian materialized by the blade and held it out to Ela. “I helped. Just like I made you remember.”

“ _ You _ sent me the nightmares?” Ela asked.

“I tried to make them nice, but things weren’t very nice for you.”

“Why send them at all?”

“You needed to know what to do when you got here,” Cole said, as if it were obvious.

“Buggar fuck. Bloody demons,” Sera muttered as she edged along a rock to scrabble for the bow and quiver Dorian made. She slung the quiver over her shoulder in a practiced motion she never learned and drew back the string experimentally. She wrinkled her nose and muttered a few more curses and then went back to hiding behind The Iron Bull.

For his part, The Iron Bull raised the greataxe and tested the weight with a legitimately practiced motion. He swung it a few times to get a feel for the range and then propped it on his shoulder. “Alright, Boss. What’s our move?”

Ela picked up the sword by the hilt and felt the way her unusual calluses gripped the braided leather. It felt comfortable, like the unnatural glow where Cole’s eyes should have been. She took several deep breaths and looked around herself again. It was definitely the same place she’d landed in the Fade so long ago. There were even shards of broken glass from one of Sera’s jars of bees.

“When we came here the first time, we had to get to the rift, the tear in the Fade, that was across all of this,” Ela gestured to the landmass they were standing on as she spoke. “But we were here physically.”

“Physically. In the Fade  _ physically? _ Surely you jest,” Dorian said, an edge of hysteria to his voice.

“I wasn’t here, but you were. I can make you remember,” Cole said.

Dorian took what looked like an involuntary step back. “No, thank you.”

“We can’t be here physically, but this Nightmare demon pulled our consciousness in here. If we kill it, we should be free,” Ela said, speaking slowly as she worked through her whirling thoughts.

The Iron Bull hefted the axe. “We’d better get a move on, then. Who knows what people are gonna do if they find us all comatose.”


	7. Chapter 7

The greatsword was heavy in Ela’s hands, but her arms didn’t hurt from carrying it. At least, not that she noticed. She kept her attention split equally between Cole and the eerie landscape they crept slowly across. The ground was scarred and torn from her assault as the Inquisitor. They hadn’t been able to defeat the Nightmare at the peak of their power and with the Mark on her hand. She couldn’t imagine them beating it  _ now. _

“Green. Blinding, choking, shaking, tearing. You were weighed down by a lot, then,” Cole said. He tilted his head back, again showing off the unnatural eyes of blue fire. “Your body isn’t here this time. Only the important parts.”

“I think what Cole is trying to say is that we have the same combat abilities we had before but we aren’t weighed down by our physical forms,” Dorian said. The mage strutted forward without fear. The end of his staff was lit with a soft purple glow and wisps of magic floated in the air around his head.

“I’m glad someone understands this demon crap,” The Iron Bull muttered. He walked just behind Ela and in her peripheral vision, she could see his horns move as he turned his head to scout the area.

“At least you have two eyes this time,” Ela said.

“Do I want to know?” The Iron Bull asked.

“No you bloody well don’t. You just want to wake up.” Sera pulled back the string of her bow, aiming around The Iron Bull’s shoulders at shadows.

“Sera, Sera, Sera… If you shoot me, I’ll know where you are,” the Nightmare demon said. Its voice echoed against the black rock as well as the empty air and the inside of their heads.

Ela fought back a shiver as the voice pierced her chest. She shifted the weight of her sword to her left hand and worried in the back of her mind that her arms were going to start aching.

“You’re not real. You don’t have muscles to ache.”

“So, Cole, are you going to help us fight this Nightmare or are you just moral support?” Dorian asked.

Daggers appeared in Cole’s hands and then disappeared in the next second. That was his only response.

“I don’t like this, Boss. I can’t hear anything. Not even  _ our _ footsteps.”

Ela froze mid-step. Once The Iron Bull mentioned it, it was impossible to forget. Her clothes made no sound as they rustled with movement. She swayed her arms and twisted in place, but still nothing, even when she scraped her sandals on the ground. “Thanks for making it a hundred times worse, Bull! Love you, too!”

“Already shitballs with the demons, Elalaland,” Sera said.

“Something’s coming. I can feel it,” Dorian said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he preened and fanned himself. “Look at that, I noticed something before you did, Bull.”

The Iron Bull hefted his greataxe and turned in the direction Dorian pointed. As soon as he did, the seemingly-solid rockwall exploded in a wet spray of ichor and poison. Spiders spilled out of the opening, crawling over each other. The clicking from their mandible was nearly loud enough to drown out the pounding of Ela’s heart in her ears.

She swallowed, took a deep breath and charged forward with her sword raised. She was terrified of spiders. She had to call in reinforcements for the tiniest, most benign harvestman, but in the Fade, with the memories of the Inquisition and how much was on the line, her fear of spiders meant little.

She remembered fighting dragons and drinking a distillation of their  _ blood _ . Spiders meant nothing. Little chittering, skittering, biting things with furry legs and slimy carapaces should know that she has a  _ world _ to save and no time to be afraid of their black blood and too many eyes. Ela slashed the legs out from under one and sensed The Iron Bull at her right hand, doing the same.

Arrows flew through the air and pierced clustered eyes with sprays of wet gore and unsettlingly hollow  _ thunks. _ The air pressure shifted with low whooshes and jarring screams as Dorian launched fireballs and bolts of lightning from his created staff.

“Haha! I could do this all day! Why did we ever solidify the Veil, anyway?” Dorian asked. 

“Might be the demons,” The Iron Bull said between heavy swings of his axe, “or the possession or the abominations…”

When the spiders were dead, Dorian lit their corpses on fire. Thankfully, instead of the horrific, rancid stench of burning hair and chitin, the spiders flared almost instantly into odorless ash that dissolved into the vast nothingness of the Fade.

Ela leaned her sword against a rock just so she could rub warm into her bare arms, chilled as she was by the sight. However, she didn’t leave the sword for long, picking it up back up in less than a minute.

For his part, Dorian was pouting at The Iron Bull. “Well when you put it that way, weakening the Veil sounds like a terrible idea. You don’t have to ruin it. I wasn’t exactly planning to build a vacation home here.” Dorian’s tone was petulant on the surface, but thanks to Ela’s refreshed memories of his past self, she heard the undercurrent of fear and desperation behind his attempts at levity.

A few miniscule spiderlings scratched and bit at Ela’s feet, but either their attacks were too weak or her feet were thick with the Dalish calluses her past-self had, because they didn’t break the skin and Ela had much bigger problems than them. Literally.

She couldn’t see the Nightmare demon, but she could feel it and she remembered how large it was. Remembered Hawke insisting that she let him stay behind to fight the demon alone. She hadn’t wanted to leave anyone behind. No one deserved to die alone in the Fade. The only reason she hadn’t dragged Stroud kicking and screaming through the Rift behind her was because she knew he didn’t have much time left anyway, being a Warden. And death by Nightmare was probably better than possessed by Corypheus.

At least, that’s what she had told herself while crying into Cullen’s shoulder during some of the many sleepless nights in Skyhold.  _ Oh _ but she hoped the Golden Lion contact really  _ was _ Cullen. He was a different person, yes, but The Iron Bull and Dorian had found each other and things seemed to be going well.

“Yes, Ada’alvhen. Things always seem to go well for you, don’t they? And then they come across deep water.”


	8. Chapter 8

Ela gasped around the sudden, constricting weight on her chest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected the Nightmare to strike at the heart, it was that she had  _ two _ sets of memories of losing her beloved younger sister and her memories as the Inquisitor were still new and fresh and bleeding in her heart. Bad enough to lose her family once, but twice and then with no time to grieve before facing this  _ demon… _ She nearly cried in relief when The Iron Bull put one of his large hands on her shoulder.

“Oi, shut up, shite-face,” Sera shouted, firing off an arrow into the nothingness. Her conjured quiver glowed for an instant as a new arrow appeared.

“Do your best to ignore it, Ela,” Dorian said. He held a ball of glowing, purple fire aloft in his left hand, but it did nothing to dispel the dank, green mist of the Fade.

“Yes, Dorian, your go-to solution, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be interested in knowing your mother is in hospital, after all.” The Nightmare was starting to sound more pleased with every taunt and jab he threw at them.

Ela looked at Dorian long enough to see his hand tighten around his staff before turning back to the path. Fearlings continued to swarm out of the nothingness. Most were spiders, like the ones literally snapping at her heels, but some were facsimiles of Bull’s friends with hard eyes and harder words. Some were Dorian’s father, the modern version looking older than the magister in Ela’s memories. Some were gross amalgamations of human limbs with too many segments attached to throbbing ball of flesh that had to be straight out of Sera’s mind.

Swinging her greatsword with the echoes of dragon blood in her veins helped Ela ignore the horror of their enemies’ forms as they progressed through the Fade. The demons came in waves as strong as the tide, just as they had the first time, but he only memories to find were already in her head. Thedas seemed so small, now that she knew she was meeting everyone for the second time.

“Not everyone,” Cole said. “You would miss Varric, if you remembered him.”

“Who’s Varric?” Ela asked.

“He was a dwarf. He wasn’t connected to the Fade, so he didn’t get to live again,” Cole answered. 

For some reason, that was nearly as chilling as knowing that people had to  _ die _ again, but Ela couldn’t afford to dwell on the cold seeping into her heart. There seemed to be no end to the path to the Nightmare, as if space didn’t matter in Fade. For all she knew, it didn’t. It could have been an infinite struggle against an endless hoard of fearlings.

“So everyone reincarnates like spirits except for dwarves? Fascinating,” Dorian said. Though his staff twirling and bursts of magic were no less impressive than when they first engaged, Dorian sounded breathless from the continued onslaught.

“If they did, I wouldn’t know,” Cole said.

“Can we focus on getting  _ out _ of here?” The Iron Bull asked. The huge kossith yanked his axe out of the fake-Krem’s stomach, spilling blood over the black rocks that disappeared seconds after making contact. “I’ve had more than enough of these shitting demons.”

When the tide of fearlings ebbed to the scant few ankle-biters, Ela wished dearly for a scabbard, or at least a sling to hang her sword on. The muscles in her arms weren’t tired, per se, it was purely mental exhaustion from holding a heavy object that her brain insisted should be unwieldy for such a prolonged time. The black blood and ichor constantly dripping from the blade didn’t help.

When Ela saw the graveyard in the distance, Ela angled towards it, despite her desire to leave as soon as possible. It was a mixture of compulsion and the strict  _ need _ to lay down her sword for  _ just a moment _ that drove her feet forward. This horrific nightmare seemed to be playing out the same way her trip to the Fade physically had gone and that meant the graveyard would be a reprieve. Of sorts.  _ It’s a double-edged sword, but I’m not going to be able to take much more of this if I don’t rest. _

“Boss, this is a dead-end.”

“I know just… Just trust me.”

Alone, Ela walked forward into the small maze of tombstones. Her steps were still silent as she approached each one and the eeriness of it continued to scrub and scratch and wear on her raw nerves. She plunged the tip of the greatsword into the soft earth of her own ‘grave,’ ignoring the single word inscribed there. On the other stones the inscriptions were just as Ela remembered, but madness’ on The Iron Bull’s tore at her heart even more than it had then. He had more than saved her from the terrors in her own mind; to protect her from his own worst fear…

She ripped her gaze away and scanned the other stones. Most had names too blurry to read -- people she hadn’t come close enough to remember.  _ Helplessness? Himself? Who are these for? Why would he fear himself? _

Feeling worse than when she entered, Ela yanked her sword from the ground and left the graveyard, but her companions were nowhere to be seen. To her right was the slope up the path to where the Rift had been, but everything else was blank nothingness of roughly hewn black rock and green haze. She fell to her knees in silence where there should have been a thump of knees hitting stone.

_ They- They’re gone. They left me. They  _ left _ me. _

“Ignoring words doesn’t make them go away,” the Nightmare said.

Because, of course, the word on her tombstone read ‘abandonment.’


	9. Chapter 9

For just one moment, Ela was frozen in place, every muscle locked stiff by freezing tendrils of fear. But before her sword could even shift in her numb hands, Ela shouted a primal, wordless sound. When the scream ended, she twisted her hands on the grip and all-but growled in her throat. “You know what? No. I’m fucking done playing your game and being so  _ fucking _ scared.”

She kicked the little fearlings scratching at her ankles and swung her sword in a wide arc in front of her. “This is just a damn illusion. My friends would  _ never _ fucking leave me here alone.”

Ela spun around and swung her sword in the opposite direction, knocking off the top half of a crumbling tombstone. “I’m not dancing to your tune for one more goddamn second.”

Panting, she stood still and stared into the emptiness of the Fade, waiting for her friends to reappear. When they didn’t, she bared her teeth and shouted again, “I said give them back!”

The last word came out as a bellow that made everything shake and shudder until the illusion shattered with a deafening crash. Judging by The Iron Bull’s surprised expression, no one else had been affected the illusion. All they saw was her standing there, panting and aggressively holding her sword.

“You okay there, Boss?”

“We’re  _ leaving _ ,” Ela snarled. As she stomped past her companions and up the slope, armor materialized around her, wrapping her arms and legs in hard leather. When heavy, dragonscale boots appeared on her feet, her footsteps were suddenly audible and echoing like thunderclaps in the Fade. The vallaslin on her face looked sharper and more prominent once her hair pulled itself away from her face and tied itself up into a tight plait.

Distantly, she heard Dorian say, “Well, I suppose they always say that will king in the Fade.”

“Too fucking right,” Sera said.

Ela didn’t look back, but she  _ knew _ her friends were also suddenly in proper combat gear, with steps that made sounds and hearts ready to  _ end this _ and go home.

More fear demons tried to attack with their spindly limbs and sunken faces, but Ela’s sword cut through them as if they were nothing more than rags and air. She barely slowed at their approach, simply changed the angle of her blade to slice them in half as she passed. They were nothing. The fearlings at her ankles were  _ less _ than nothing. The Nightmare’s time was over.

“That’s what you thought last time, and then you left Stroud behind to die,” the Nightmare said.

Ela let the words fall off her like so much water. She didn’t pause until she planted her feet at the end of the path where the Nightmare demon’s gigantic form rested. At the end of the space, laid Stroud’s body. It laid bloodless and untouched by decay and time, his silverite breastplate still shining in the reflected light from Dorian’s mage fire.

Thirty seconds. Ela gave herself thirty seconds to grieve, to mourn, to regret leaving Stroud behind, and then she turned away from the preserved body and faced the towering Nightmare. 

“Your reign of terror ends here!” Ela shouted. She ran at the demon, sword raised over her head in both hands for a devastating overhand strike. The Iron Bull roared his own, wordless challenge and stood at her side, both of them hacking at the unnatural, grey flesh. Behind them, Dorian and Sera fired away at the arms and tentacles that struck towards them from the horrific mass of demon.

“That’s right! Struggle, mortals! Fight for an eternity of despair until your soul gives out, just Stroud. The Calling would have been a cleaner death than you gave him, Elashorei,” the Nightmare taunted. It’s voice was unaffected by their combined attack and didn’t even seem to be coming from the demonic form their weapons were striking. “You belong to me and will never leave this place again! Now you know true fear!”

But Ela wasn’t afraid. She was  _ angry.  _ She’s lost her parents twice. She’d lost her  _ sister _ twice. She’d lost Stroud. And she’d fucking destroyed Corypheus in the biggest shower of magic since that  _ fucker _ Solas made the Veil in the first place.  _ One _ demon was never going to scare her, no matter how big it was. No matter how long she had to strike it with her sword.  _ It _ would fear  _ Ela _ as she hacked away at it until she won through attrition because she wasn’t going to lose anyone or anything else.

“Biting, scratching, clawing. Wear it down. Wear it out,” Cole said.

Ela’s eyes widened at Cole’s words. They were barely more than a whisper and oddly coming from a place he wasn’t standing. They were also her own thoughts, but hearing them from someone  _ else _ made all of the pieces fall together. She kept hacking away at the large form of the demon as her mind raced, double and triple-checking her conclusion.

With a fierce grin, Ela jerked her sword out of the writing, demonic mass. “True fear is a sneaking, insidious thing that claws at your mind slowly over time until you’re too weak to fucking fight back! Not today, motherfucker!”

Ela spun in place and thrust her sword into the scuttling fearling that had been harassing her at her ankles the entire time. A ghastly, screeching wail shattered the sounds of battle as the demon died. The remaining fearlings retreated as the mass of limbs and writhing skin dissolved in front of their eyes. 

The demon corpse skewered on her sword was the only remnant of their protracted battle. Ela pulled back her sword and kicked the disgusting carapace off the side of the rock platform so it could fall for all eternity in the Fade.

Sera walked up to her shoulder and spit over the edge. “Drinks on you for a while, eh, Elalaland?”

“On  _ me?!  _ I killed the fucking thing!”

“It was, arguably, your demon,” Dorian said, coming up on her other side.

“Yup. Your nightmares, your fault, Boss.”

“Oh,  _ come the fuck, on. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! There's just a short epilogue left.
> 
> If you think Ela is a fun character, please check out her [her creator's blog](https://elalavella.tumblr.com/). It's packed with good content and she's a great person, as well!


	10. Chapter 10

Ela laughed from her perch on Cullen’s lap. They were on her white-ish couch, in her flat, drinking wine with Sera, Dorian and The Iron Bull. 

Cullen had one arm around her waist and the other was trying to wrestle his mobile out of her hands. He was unsuccessful and she managed to snap a pic of them  _ and _ send it to Alistair before passing it back.

“Was that necessary? He’s going to spam me with pictures of cheese for the next week, now,” Cullen said, but his complaint fell on deaf ears because Ela could tell he wasn’t  _ really _ upset.

“Cheese is great with a fine wine. You should introduce to this source of infinite cheese,” Dorian said. “We can make a charcuterie platter.”

“And here I thought the boss was the only one I could bribe with food,” The Iron Bull said.

“You can bribe almost anything with food, you just have to know what  _ kind _ of food,” Sera said with a leer.

The Iron Bull roared with laughter and nearly knocked Sera over with how firmly he patted her on the back. “True enough. So is this apartment still a nightmare-free zone?”

“You wouldn’t think so with how much yelling comes out of her bedroom,” Sera said before snorting with uncontrollable laughter.

Ela flushed bright red and hid her face in an equally embarrassed Cullen’s shoulder. For his part, Cullen just cleared his throat and said, “I can’t say I’m sorry I missed that little episode.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I got plenty of the non-transported to the Fade-variety nightmares. That spirit friend of yours… Cole? Well, he wouldn’t rest until I’d asked you out properly. Damn embarrassing, that.”

Ela laughed, but continued to hide her face. She blindly reached behind herself for her wine glass. 

“My mentor Alexius is still trying to talk me into academics. He doesn’t seem to understand why I’d rather not write a paper on the experience,” Dorian said.

“Thanks, Dorian,” Ela mumbled around her sip of wine.

“If he keeps pushing, he’s going to have to understand my boot up his ass.”

“And lizards in his bed,” Sera added.

“So I have  _ you _ to thank for that?” Cullen asked.

“Who else, Your Goldenness?” Sera said before blowing a raspberry at him.

Ela winked at Sera and from her position on Cullen’s lap, he couldn’t see.

Dorian refilled everyone’s glasses. “So tell me more about this ball at Halamshiral.”

Ela leaned forward and recounted the ball at the Winter Palace with grand hand gestures and some sound effects courtesy of Sera. Her life wasn’t the same as it had been before the nightmares, but Ela didn’t mind. It was  _ better, _ after all. She had new friends and despite how grim the thought was, she knew they’d be with her even in the next life, so she didn’t have to worry.

She was pretty sure she wouldn’t have much to worry about until Cole started spamming her with visions of blonde, curly-haired children from the Fade.

But that could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! It was a lot of fun to write Ela and the world of the AU was actually a lot deeper mechanically than I was ever going to go into in this, so maybe I'll come back to it later.
> 
> If you liked Ela, again, [check her out here](https://elalavella.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If you liked my writing, check out my [Character as an Inquisition Companion AU](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/tagged/fox-companion-au)


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